


Coffee Shop AU

by yeoubi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeoubi/pseuds/yeoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tall boy runs up to the coffee shop, ducking under the awning. He makes a dismayed face when he realizes the rain is running sideways and flips around to hide his face from it. The suddenness of the movement catches Kyungsoo’s attention and on both sides of the glass, eyes connect and freeze.</p><p>Heavy-lidded chocolate holds wide-lashed charcoal and blinks just once, slow and decisive.</p><p>Hello, they say. How are you doing today?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> part of the "getting rid of my tumblr fic gallery so im reposting my shit here" series. ^^

Originally posted [here](http://yeo-ubi.tumblr.com/post/96859606714/coffee-shop-au-part-1-14). 

* * *

 

There’s something about coffee shops that makes them inherently romantic. It might just be the fact that there’s a deadly supply of caffeine within an order’s reach talking, but Kyungsoo doesn’t think so.

Coffee shops attract people but not in the way fast food joints do where customers come, grab their food and leave you their heels and dust before you can do more than say  _have a good day!_  

They’re not like bars which have their own romantic appeal in the patient smile of the tender and in the spontaneous camaraderie found in fellow drinkers. The romance of coffee shops is less lonely so to speak.

Which is ironic since it finds completion in solitude rather than companionship, with tiny round tables and comfy one-seaters, and heady concoctions served in miniature tableware meant to be savored by the individual tongue.

 _Come, sit down_ _,_  they beckon.  _Enjoy the experience, and leave with something new, just for yourself._

Even though the library is closer when his class ends, Kyungsoo finds himself returning to the same coffee shop off to the side of the university near the other end of the campus. He dabbles in three maybe four different drinks over the course of two weeks’ worth of visits before finally settling on the first he ever ordered and sticking to it. 

Sometimes he doesn’t have any readings or assignments to work on and just sits and drinks at the high table built for two at the edge of the large window that overwhelms half the shop front. 

He always sits facing outward like he’s expecting someone but doesn’t look up when the bell hanging over the door shakes and chimes with an entrance. He looks out the window half-heartedly, his gaze catching more on the motion of colors than any person in particular.

Today is one of those days, though he made an honest effort to concentrate on the (to be) paper in front of him. The laptop eventually blacks out when he’s not looking and he can’t conjure up the energy to dab it awake via touchpad.

It’s a grey day and rain drops are running down the window next to Kyungsoo’s face. He has no umbrella because he hadn’t expected the weather to turn on him in the middle of the afternoon but he’s more fascinated by the sudden shower than anything else. He has the wild thought to run outside and welcome it literally with open arms.

A sip of drip coffee with a dollop of cream and no sugar. He does need an umbrella though.

A tall boy runs up to the coffee shop, ducking under the awning. He makes a dismayed face when he realizes the rain is running sideways and flips around to hide his face from it. The suddenness of the movement catches Kyungsoo’s attention and on both sides of the glass, eyes connect and freeze.

Heavy-lidded chocolate holds wide-lashed charcoal and blinks just once, slow and decisive.

 _Hello_ _,_  they say.  _How are you doing today?_

Kyungsoo’s lips quirk up in knee-jerk politeness.  _Fine, thank you._

He glances down at the cup before him and back up, and feels like he’s in that awkward in-between moment of greetings and true conversation even with a slide of glass and rain droplets separating them. It’s not a long moment though because he gets another heavy bat in a  _well, goodbye then_  and the boy’s off, holding the collar of his shirt up over his head and giving Kyungsoo a good flash of his long back.

Kyungsoo watches him, takes another pull of his coffee and thinks he’ll probably leave the shop the same way unless the rain stops or he steals someone else’s umbrella.

He also thinks of blond hair droopy with rainwater, over chocolate brown eyes.

.

.

He won’t realize until later, but this is how they start. 


	2. Chapter 2

Coffee shops naturally crystallize around universities but Kyungsoo only ever goes to this one because the nearest bus stop is two blocks away and most college students are too lazy to walk the extra distance, the upshot being the generally older and calmer crowd, 40% loyal patron and only 20% hipster.

Kyungsoo skipped lunch to do some last minute reading for section and he’s considering a biscotti to go with his usual as he lazily scans the coffee shop from his place in line. 

He frowns when he sees someone sitting at his favorite seat by the front window because he’s only the second in line and he thought for sure it’d still be empty by the time he finished his order. Then his face goes slack when he recognizes that side profile, now topped by velvet dark locks in place of the platinum of old.

The boy is tilting his chair back precariously, his eye on the forward stretch of sidewalk beyond the window and entrance, long bony fingers tap-tap-tapping next to a shiny white smartphone on the tabletop.

The afternoon crowd hasn’t arrived in full march yet and despite the grinding, whining ruckus of the baristas’ behind-the-scenes production the atmosphere is oddly reserved, more hushed words over steaming rims and meaningful looks than any outright conversation, and it’s in this setting that the boy’s lone figure in front of the window strikes Kyungsoo as poignant, almost woeful.

But then the line moves and it’s his turn to order and he fumbles for his wallet.

They need to brew and ice another batch of coffee for his drink, so he stands off to side and purviews the shop’s dusty tea collection which has yellowed labels with illegible writing and by now has become more decoration than not. He looks for a new seat, momentarily considers the other table in front of the window beside his regular spot, but loses his nerve and picks one on the other side of the shop partly obscured by the only sofa set provided.

He resolutely works on a class project for the next three hours and gets four refills, switching between coffee and tea as is his norm. The boy was still gazing out the window solemn-faced with boredom when Kyungsoo glanced up in the first half hour but had vanished by the second, replaced by a hipster couple in matching beanies. 

The shop gets much busier after that as the late lunch and work crowd meld together to form a monster rush that has the baristas running behind the counter, but it is strangers that fill up the shop’s close corners and Kyungsoo finds himself wishing for that familiar form when he looks up and his eyes inevitably move to the table at the corner of the window. 

It’s a fleeting thought though, swiftly buried under approaching project deadlines, texts from roommates eager for distraction from lecture and the rising need for dinner with every hour that passes. Kyungsoo forgets the familiar stranger with ease and if he’s honest with himself, with eagerness. 

.

.

Kyungsoo will never know this, but in between his first and second glance he received a handful of glances himself, which were at first idle, then immediately curious, fluidly running into pleasantly surprised and finally settling on speculative.

When he saw his late friend ambling steadily towards the shop the boy got up and left, phone in hand, but not before throwing one last glance at the corner where Kyungsoo was bent over a laptop diligently typing away, the sketch of his face pensive even from that angle.

The look on the boy’s face as he leaves is not quite wistful. Not yet. 


	3. Chapter 3

He’s come here often enough that the baristas recognize his face and vice versa but he hasn’t had the courage to strike up any conversation until the tall one with the eyebags of a serial killer takes his cup and refills it, and says a bit petulantly, “How long have you been waiting for that? I could have gotten you a refill earlier if you just told me.”

“I, um, sorry?” says Kyungsoo, at a loss for words.

The slim black name tag on the barista’s apron reads ZITAO in stiff white letters, which sounds like a foreign curse word in Kyungsoo’s head and to his ears when the other barista, the cheerful one who always writes the last two letters of Kyungsoo’s name with smiley faces, calls it aloud from the register where he’s emptying out the tip jar before the next rush. 

“Zitao, don’t bother him! Can’t you see he’s working?” He flaps his hand at Zitao in the way one would beckon a child or a small dog.

Zitao makes an injured face, lower lip jutting out, and it’s astonishing what it does to his features. He looks younger than Kyungsoo even though Kyungsoo had initially assumed older by the height and the wiry muscles his arms showed off in the sleeve-less t-shirts he wore.

“I was just getting him a refill, Lay-ge,” Zitao whines as he returns to the station, to which he gets a raised eyebrow and a doubtful smile.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” Kyungsoo says amiably and adds to Zitao, “Thank you for the refill.” He raises the cup in the barista’s direction in thanks.

A surprisingly bashful smile breaks across Zitao’s face like a dawning sun which Kyungsoo can’t help but return, and from there on he starts chatting more often with the baristas of Café M, who later inform him that they held back because he seemed like the type that wanted his own space.

“If I had known you weren’t really that shy I would have called you by your name when you came by,” Luhan jokes, “God knows I have it memorized after all the times I’ve penned it on the back of a cup.”

Luhan is the gentle-faced barista with a phone in his pocket that dings with incoming messages at least once every five minutes. From their conversations Kyungsoo gathers that Luhan is one of the big social butterflies on campus though he’s more genuinely friendly than aggressively social the way Kyungsoo’s classmate Baekhyun is.

Luhan’s the type of barista to memorize every customer’s name and strike up small talk just because he can, while Yixing (Lay on the nametag because no one can pronounce his name) will forget the customer’s name but remember their orders, and get tips by the fistful for every display of his prominent dimples.

To his great dismay, Zitao usually gets tips from giggly female customers who like to ogle his exposed arms and dominate the entire sofa section of the shop from which they have a clear side view of whoever’s working the espresso machine, which is also usually Zitao because he’s the worst at working the register.

“That’s your own fault isn’t it?” Kyungsoo says when Zitao tries to complain to him about it. “You’re practically begging for that kind of attention by not dressing properly.” He motions to the slip of cloth Zitao has on today, which looks like someone badly patched together a bikini and decided to call the mess of straps a shirt.

“Look, I can see one of your nipples,” Kyungsoo declares pointing at one of the particularly large rips across the front of the tank top not covered by the apron.

Zitao lets out a hilarious squeak and bats Kyungsoo’s hand away. “It’s my style!”

“What, naked goth boy is a style now?” Kyungsoo replies mercilessly, bolstered by Luhan’s gasps of laughter behind him.   

Zitao won’t speak to him for the rest of that day and throws him betrayed glares at random intervals but Kyungsoo is satisfied because none of them would ever dare call him shy after that.

Kyungsoo is still riding the triumphant high when he takes a hearty mouthful of his lukewarm coffee and looks up as the bell over the front door rings and someone walks in. It’s a group of people, students by the look and sound of them, and his gaze rolls over them when he doesn’t recognize anyone, right over to the view beyond the window to the figure at the back of the group hand-combing his hair like he just got up and didn’t get a chance to neaten it.

Kyungsoo’s mouth drops open because it’s  _him_ , the boy he saw the other day perched at his favorite table like he owned it. 

He immediately assumes the boy is part of the entering group of students until he sees how he skirts the edge of the sidewalk to get around them. Kyungsoo wants to smile or wave but the boy doesn’t look up when he passes and it’s only after he’s gone that Kyungsoo realizes what an odd reaction that would have been, because they haven’t met yet have they?

They’re strangers.

With that sobering thought, he drops back into the seat, and feels even more pathetic to realize how enthusiastic a picture he must have made gawking out the window the way he was. Self consciously he peers around over the top of his cup and feels relieved when he sees no one looking at him. Luhan and Tao are busy with the stack of orders the new group has brought with them and Yixing isn’t due to replace Luhan until later that afternoon.

Even so, Kyungsoo finishes his coffee and leaves early that day. He feels unsettled and there’s too much space in the coffee shop to think.

.

.

Kyungsoo thinks that it’s so typical of him to get a crush on someone he has never met before. Someone he has no  _chance_  of meeting, because the world is a tangled mass of wire-connections, and in this huge world you can’t just jump from your network of wires to another’s, out of the blue, without invitation, even though you might be strongly tempted to. 

There are always some that do of course, people that are either insanely brave or just plain insane, like his current roommate Chanyeol who would lean over in the middle of lecture to whisper to you, “This professor’s droning is putting me to sleep. You wanna go get lunch instead? I’m Chanyeol, by the way.” 

But Kyungsoo is not one of those people.

He wonders sometimes how his life would change if he could be the type of person to take the plunge, no safety net, just him in his entirety and the endless blue and the slight hopeful possibility that someone will catch him on the other side. It’s characters like these that make up our storybook heroes after all, who, fictional though they may be, are emulated for a reason. 

Like any other boy Kyungsoo would like to be a hero. He would like to be, but to be perfectly honest he wouldn’t know how to even start.


	4. Chapter 4

Jongin is in that transitional grey zone between walking and running because he’s late for class but at the same time doesn’t want to draw any more attention to his glittery dance outfit than he has to.

They’re a week away from the next show and their director has started forcing them to dance in their costumes when it gets this close to the line, ever since one of the girls nearly killed herself tumbling off the stage because the corset part of her costume was  _suffocating_  her when she danced. 

Jongin’s clothes, which he always makes sure to stash in his locker, were gone when he finished practice. There’s only two people that would have taken his clothes and one of them is at his part time job at the coffee shop near the dance studio.

“Oh Sehun, you  _asshole_ ,” Jongin swears into the phone as he hurries to class. It’s his fifth call. “I know it was you even if you’re ignoring my calls. You fucker you don’t even have class right now.” His scathing tone makes a trio of professors to his right scan him judgingly.

Jongin turns away in embarrassment and lowers his voice but is no less heated as he bites out, “Just because I was laughing at you about your crush on that transfer student does not give you the right to take my fucking clothes! I have  _three_  classes today! You are  _dead_  when I get back. You hear me, Oh Sehun?  _Dead_. Dead as, as….”

Jongin loses his train of thought as he stares ahead, because approximately twenty feet in front of him is a familiar stranger walking in Jongin’s direction, hair adorably mussed and in a hoodie that looks two sizes too big for him.

“It’s  _him_ ,” Jongin breathes, surprised since this is the third encounter in only two weeks and the coffee shop boy looks  _different_  outside of the shop’s weak yellow lamp lights. Jongin thought his hair was brown but it’s actually dyed a rusty red that highlights the pink of his lips and emphasizes the solid sable of his eyes.

Jongin doesn’t notice himself stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. 

The boy has a quiet face, the kind that doesn’t emote well but not in the way Sehun’s doesn’t emote well. While his dumb best friend can pull off an astounding resemblance to a wall, the coffee shop boy just looks more subtle with his expressions, like someone has turned down the volume on everything.

Right now he’s got a hint of a smile as he listens to the boy walking alongside him, who in contrast is moving his mouth a mile a minute with a frantic show of hand and arm gestures to boot.

It’s a pretty smile, Jongin realizes and there’s an odd sinking feeling in his stomach like some vague part of him recognizes the quiet momentum of this instant. It’s not unlike the split-second right before you miss a step on the stairs and fall face-first into gravity.

Jongin has about three or four seconds of genuine panic,  _oh shit i’m wearing my gay glitter outfit, should i look the other way and pretend not to see him? i’m going to kill you Oh Sehun_ , right before the coffee shop boy and his friend turn a corner and disappear without ever noticing him.

Jongin sags in place, and in his hand the phone beeps to signal the end of the voicemail time limit.


	5. Chapter 5

Kyungsoo doesn’t know if it’s because his taste buds are still a little off from his cold or because Zitao’s in a bad mood that the first caramel latte he tries is absolutely disgusting. It might just have been horrendously sweet to start off with.

Either way first impressions reign supreme; Kyungsoo is never having another mixed espresso drink again.

Well meaning as always, Yixing tries to talk him out of it.

“This is not how this usually tastes,” Yixing informs him, eyes round with an earnestness that only storybook street urchins in newsy caps can normally pull off.

It’s only because their interactions this past month have given Kyungsoo a sense of Yixing’s personality that he knows the barista isn’t just saying that to appease him. The notion of customer satisfaction probably hasn’t even crossed his mind.

“Why does it taste like that then?” Kyungsoo questions as he passes the cup over to Joonmyun, the Literature classmate who followed him to the coffee shop to make sure he didn’t collapse on the way. “Like cotton candy?”

Kyungsoo feels a little satisfied to see Joonmyun make a face and gag after his first sip, especially after he made such a fuss over Kyungsoo’s “weak constitution” not being able to handle caffeinated drinks.

Although he had seen him in a few mutual classes, Kyungsoo hadn’t talked to the older Lit major until today when he made the mistake of sitting next to him while he still had the dregs of a cold lingering in his lungs.

Kyungsoo was trying not to interrupt lecture with his wet coughs when Joonmyun leaned over with a handful of tissues he had stored in his messenger bag, along with a bottle of aspirin, a water canister and pieces of ginseng candy that Kyungsoo had only ever seen at his grandparents’ house before. Then he had insisted on walking Kyungsoo to the coffee shop after he turned down the older boy’s offer to walk him home. 

If Kyungsoo didn’t know any better he would have assumed Joonmyun was interested in him, but there was a hint of mothering to everything Joonmyun did, like he had ten younger siblings that he fostered before coming to college. He must have taken one look at how miserable Kyungsoo looked in class, smothering his coughs into his elbow and sniffing back a river of mucus every other second, and conducted an immediate mental adoption of Kyungsoo into his flock.

Kyungsoo is not as grateful as he probably should be.

It doesn’t help that Joonmyun has intruded on  _his_  coffee shop which he can’t help but feel possessive over. There are students that patronize it, but not many, and none quite as regularly as Kyungsoo so far as he can tell. Joonmyun could upset this delicate balance by attracting more students to it, and the threat of this possibility is why Kyungsoo takes care to meticulously (albeit childishly) ignore Joonmyun in silent protest once they’re in the coffee shop, even though they arrived together and share a table.

Yixing shrugs sheepishly and says in a lower voice, “Zitao’s been in a slump all week because he’s got a crush on this customer.”

Zitao must have been eavesdropping because immediately his head pokes over the espresso machine to shoot them down with a glare.

“It’s not a CRUSH!  ** _He’s_**  the one stalking  ** _me_**! Get it right, Lay-ge!” Zitao says hotly before ducking out of sight again. By the furious sound of the milk steamer he’s about to ruin another person’s drink, and Kyungsoo winces sympathetically for the unlucky recipient. 

“…Right,” Yixing says with a slow nod at them, “ _That’s_  what’s been happening this week.” The way he dimples at them is decidedly amused.

“Freshmen,” scoffs Kyungsoo, and Joonmyun chuckles at him.

“You’re only a year older, Kyungsoo,” he reminds, which the shorter boy ignores with ease. He’s had a lot of practice ignoring his roommate Chanyeol; at his level Kyungsoo imagines he could turn his head from a detonating bomb. 

“He comes by and sits over there,” Yixing tells them and points over at one of the love seats facing the baristas’ station, “and lingers for an hour or two. Apparently it’s been making Zitao nervous, even though he usually isn’t bothered by people watching him work.” He grins and stage-whispers, “Young love, right?” 

Kyungsoo eyes the sofas curiously. “I don’t think I’ve seen him. What does he look like?”

“That’s because he usually comes in the mornings at the very beginning of Zitao’s shift during his three weekdays,” Yixing explains and Kyungsoo makes an soft  _ohh_ in understanding. He usually arrives in the afternoons after his classes are finished.

“I haven’t actually seen him but Luhan has and said he’s a really tall kid and white as a snowman, but all over.”

Yixing demonstrates by waving his hands over his head and torso, down to his knees. He has a surprising fluidity that makes it look more like a dance move than the fly-swatting ritual it would appear to be on anyone else. Kyungsoo might be a little jealous. 

“Hold on,” says Joonmyun in sudden revelation, “Does this boy happen to look particularly blank-faced?“ He makes a motion over his face like he’s wiping a chalk board clean. "He looks like he has the world’s best poker face?”

Yixing’s mouth forms a perfect “O” in his surprise. “Ehh, how did you know?”

Joonmyun is smiling in amazement. “He’s one of my friends’ younger brothers. I’ve known him since we were young.” Joonmyun turns to Kyungsoo and remarks, “This is quite a coincidence, isn’t it? It’s like we were meant to fall together and become good friends.”

He beams at Kyungsoo so brightly a church choir would start warbling on cue if they were in a movie. 

Kyungsoo looks unmoved, and stares at Joonmyun unblinkingly in a way that he hopes properly conveys his disapproval. Then without a word he turns around and goes back to his seat.

Behind him he hears Yixing say kindly to Joonmyun, “Don’t worry, I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Since Kyungsoo is looking down to make sure he doesn’t spill his new cup of coffee, he doesn’t notice the two figures darting by the window, or the way one of them snaps his head around to gape at him. 

The boy’s lips shape themselves around a single word so distinctly he might be speaking in slow motion. 

 _Wait_. 

By the time Kyungsoo raises his head they’ve long disappeared down the sidewalk.


	6. Chapter 6

“ _That’s_  who you like? The one that looks like he eats cuddly woodland animals for breakfast?” 

“Don’t point, he’ll see us!” Sehun hisses as he slaps down Jongin’s hand.

The dance major gives him a narrow look, which Sehun misses in his preoccupation with the barista who’s now pouring milk into an aluminum jug, his head bent slightly towards them. The side of his head visible to them glints with an earful of metal that impresses even Jongin.

“Man, you always did have weird taste,” Jongin says, to which Sehun grunts incoherently.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” 

“Nope.”

“Fucking stone-faced brat.” Jongin sighs but he’s too used to his friend’s personality to be truly annoyed. 

He folds his arms as he straightens up, and tries to feign cool nonchalance as a couple passersby ogle them. Jongin is in tights and a stretch tank top that shows off his tan arms, while Sehun is in a white t-shirt and grey sweats that he still hasn’t realized do nothing to hide the fact that he’s going commando.

Neither of them look decent for the public, but the way Sehun’s sweats meld over his ass as he bends for a better view is downright obscene.

“…You realize you look like a pervert peeking into the window like that, right?”

“You’re a pervert,” Sehun mutters, and Jongin smirks. Sehun must really like this guy because that was a bad comeback even for him. Jongin rolls his head to the side and eyes his friend and the decidedly besotted expression on his face. 

Despite his severely apathetic appearance Sehun has been a romantic for as long as Jongin has known him. When they were kids, Jongin had been bemused to find out that his new neighbor wanted to watch Disney princess movies more than he wanted to play video games, but he had gone along with it because he thought that’s how normal boys who didn’t move around and switch schools every six months acted.

He didn’t know then that it was just Oh Sehun, the most romantic introvert in their grade. 

There’s a stone clogging Jongin’s chest that feels like jealousy, but that doesn’t make sense when there’s nothing to be jealous of. Sehun’s crush is within reach and he knows Sehun exists, (there’s no way he can’t after all the times Sehun woke up early the past week to stalk him during his morning shifts), but then what? They’re still strangers, and Sehun’s never going to get up the courage to ask him out. They’ll pass by each other, not like ships in the night but like birds that cross paths but can’t be bothered to divert from their cycles.  

That’s life, in all its boring lonely candor. 

How are you supposed to overcome that foreign border? When the ache for a stranger who could be a best friend or a true love is overwhelming but still not enough to tackle the fear of crossing the barren no man’s land? Will that stranger even be waiting for you on the other side?

Sehun has no idea but Jongin’s also been stopping by the coffee shop that week to catch a glimpse of the mysterious boy he saw the other day. He was there at times in the afternoon when he had last seen him, hoping to catch him in the middle of his schedule, but the boy never made an appearance.

After the third visit, after Jongin lingered near the window where they had their first encounter holding the cup of coffee he would eventually trash because dance routines were stressful enough without the caffeine boost, he felt a sudden cold wash of embarrassment at his own actions.

 _It’s so premature to have a crush on someone you’ve never met_ , Jongin thought morosely and quickly dumped the full cup as soon as he walked out, ridding himself of evidence.

Since then, Jongin wouldn’t have given the coffee shop a second glance if not for Sehun, who stopped next to it on the way to dance practice and refused to budge. It’s because Sehun has the tenacity of a pitbull when he has his mind set on something that Jongin is now leaning against the shop’s building as Sehun peeks into the front window to ogle the transfer student/ barista/ piercing fiend.

Thank god they’re still young enough to feign youthful incomprehension when someone inevitably calls the police, Jongin thinks sardonically.

“I know this guy’s in your Econ class but do you even know his name?” Jongin’s tone is doubtful.

Instead of answering, Sehun whirls around so abruptly he almost bashes heads with Jongin, the look on his face panicked. “Let’s go! I think he saw me,” Sehun says nervously and tugs Jongin by the bicep so he’s stumbling a little to keep up as Sehun starts rushing them past the shop.

Out of the corner of his periphery, Jongin sees someone take a seat at the table next to the window and when he swivels around for a better look his mouth drops open.

“Wait!” Jongin blurts because it’s  _the boy he’s been looking for all week_.

“No, Jongin, you can tease me about the guy later,” Sehun retorts as he fairly drags Jongin away. “Let’s get out of here before I embarrass myself anymore. We’re going to be late for dance practice if we don’t hurry.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Jongin snaps irritably as he shrugs off his hand, but Sehun’s right and Jongin can’t afford to lose attendance credit with the way he’s been dancing lately. “Fuck,” Jongin says with feeling, and combs his hand roughly through his hair.

He takes the lead as they cross the street, nearly running in his frustration. 

Sehun skips up to raise his eyebrow at Jongin, and says in a neutral voice, “You act like you wanted to stick around more than I did.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jongin says darkly.

.

.

Inside the shop, Yixing says plaintively, “Tao, stop glaring at the window like that. You’re going to scare away the customers.”

“Hnn.”


	7. Chapter 7

[   
](http://yeo-ubi.tumblr.com/post/96859606714/theres-something-about-coffee-shops-that-makes) It’s Sunday and Kyungsoo has a quiz to study for tomorrow but the library is closed for construction when he stops by. So without missing a beat he heads for his favorite coffee shop, his laptop case swung over his shoulder. When he gets there he’s surprised to find the line going out the door. 

Inside, three baristas are busy behind the counter and Kyungsoo’s so used to seeing just Yixing, Luhan and Tao that his eyes go wide when he sees it’s not them. He forgot that there are other people employed at Cafe M.

The person at the register definitely lacks Yixing’s easy charm.

“What do you want?” the barista drawls, his eyes half-masted behind the oversized black frames he wears. He looks like he ran out of patience about fifty customers before Kyungsoo.

Before he can answer, the other employee standing off to the side with his arms folded clicks his tongue loudly, and the one in front of Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and says, “I mean, what could I get for you,  _sir_?”

The other barista sighs at the sarcastic tone, looking skyward in askance. “Sorry,” he apologizes to Kyungsoo when he gives his order and drifts over to the side out of the way of the other customers. “He’s still in training.”

He sounds like he’s been repeating the words all morning. Across the black tag on his chest is emblazoned KRIS, and the scowl etched into his face reminds Kyungsoo of what a Chinese gangster might look like. 

Kris turns to the large pastry case beside him and uses the tongs to slide a couple of the thumbprint cookies with red filling onto a small plate. Kyungsoo’s eyebrows shoot up when he hands the plate to Kyungsoo without further ado.

“Uh, thank you? I didn’t order this though,“ Kyungsoo says, hesitant because Kris is almost two heads taller than him and that kind of height difference is fairly intimidating to face in person. 

Kris shrugs. “You’re a regular, I heard, and you’ve been nice to Zitao. You’re Do Kyungsoo, right? Tao showed me the picture.”

Kyungsoo goggles at him. “Picture?”

Kris looks uncomfortable. “I don’t think I was supposed to mention that,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Kris tells Kyungsoo, “Tao is taking a photography minor so he takes a lot of pictures of people these days. Candids, all of them, because it’s more “artistic” that way.” He makes air quotes, and by the weary edge to his voice Kyungsoo deduces Kris is probably one of Zitao’s main subjects. “He likes to take pictures of his favorite customers and he showed me one of yours the other day.”

Kyungsoo feels warm to think that the freshman barista thinks of him as one of his favorite customers. “I didn’t see a camera though?” he says a little shyly.

Kris gives him a chagrined smile. “He uses his phone.”

“Ah.”

Kris looks like he wants to apologize again but then he makes a sudden queer expression at the line of customers that’s still trailing behind Kyungsoo. Throwing a wary glance at the trainee behind the register, Kris quickly excuses himself and marches over to deal with whatever problem he noticed. 

There’s more people milling around for their drinks now, mixing a little with the customers entering and those waiting in line, so Kyungsoo decides to wait for his drink at his seat. He’s not used to seeing so many people filling up the coffee shop, and realizes this is probably why there are three baristas working instead of the normal two.

The third one behind the espresso machine is a pleasure to see in action; most of the customers waiting for their drinks are watching him with rapt attention. With so many orders, one would expect two baristas to be mixing the drinks but it looks like Kris is there solely to supervise the mouthy trainee. The one actually making the drinks looks like he’s doing twenty different things at once, but somehow he’s still keeping up small talk with the regulars and throwing easy smiles around. 

That kind of multitasking power must come in handy for school, Kyungsoo thinks not without a little envy.

He tries one of the two cookies Kris gave him and finds to his pleasant surprise that the red filling is raspberry. When his name is called, Kyungsoo rises from his seat. His drink is sitting on the counter waiting for him and the barista at the espresso machine looks over when he picks it up. 

“Have a good day!” the barista says with a toothy smile. His eyes are almost perfectly almond-shaped and the hair that’s been pushed down his forehead by the soft maroon beanie he’s wearing is stark black. 

Kyungsoo smiles back politely, thanks him and carefully navigates his way back to his seat.

Behind him, the barista’s smile freezes as he registers what he had just seen. He squints at the Kyungsoo’s receding back and the red brush of hair on his head. He glances down at the espresso shots filling before him and back up with a giddy expression. 

The barista, whose name tag reads MINSEOK, hurriedly finishes up the drink he’s making and hopes desperately that when he finishes the rush the red-haired boy will still be around. Inside he crows,  _I found him! I found him, Jongin._

**.**

**.**

Jongin’s been on edge for days, always with the phone in his pocket or in his hand, sometimes on the table in front of him where his gaze will inevitably drift back to it despite lectures and friends and homework.

His friends don’t understand why he sounds more rushed on the phone, why there’s a hint of disappointment that he tries to drown out by speaking louder and quicker.

Jongin is eating breakfast in the dining hall when his phone receives a new text message, and everyone in the immediate vicinity jumps because it’s only nine in the morning (which is practically dawn for college students) and the buzzing against the table sounds like the muted tinny version of a jackhammer.

Taemin, a fellow dance major from his dorm, glares at him over his cereal, although the look is too sleepy to have any sting. 

“Sorry,” Jongin says absently as he snaps open the phone. He sticks another forkful of syrup-soaked waffle in his mouth as he looks at the text message and his eyes linger over the sender label, which is a number that he doesn’t know.

It takes a few seconds for him to register why this is important.

“Ahh!” Jongin exclaims and drops his fork so it clatters noisily against his plate. 

Taemin visibly winces. “You’re being so loud today,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging the cereal bowl to his chest like it’s the only good thing left in the world. 

Jongin ignores him and eagerly opens up the message, hoping that this is the one he’s been waiting for. His eyes gleam, and in a couple moments he lets out a single delighted peal of laughter. The message reads:

_Hi, I got your note from your dance teammate. It’s nice to meet you, I guess? My name is Do Kyungsoo by the way._


	8. Chapter 8

 

 **019-XXX-XXXX**  
March 14, 2012 9:12 AM  
 _It’s nice to meet u. I’m Kim Jongin ;)_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:13 AM  
 _I know…your name was on the note._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:13 AM  
 _Oh whoops I forgot_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:13 AM  
 _I guess I’m a little excited haha_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:14 AM  
 _Sorry to burst your bubble but how do we know we have the right ppl? You might be someone completely different from the person I met…not that we officially met yet. -_-“_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:15 AM  
 _I guess I’ll just have to trust that Xiumin-hyung found the right person_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:16 AM  
 _I thought his name was Minseok?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:17 AM  
 _His stage name is Xiumin, he’s in the dance production w me._

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:17 AM  
 _Is that your major too? Dance?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:18 AM  
 _Yep i’m a freshman in theatre dance_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:18 AM  
 _Wat about u?_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:20 AM  
 _I’m an English lit major. It’s a lot of reading. :/_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:20 AM  
 _That sucks, i hate reading :P_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:21 AM  
 _Well it’s good for me since I like to read…_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:22 AM  
 _Wait so to make sure wat DO u look like?_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:23 AM  
 _Short, dyed red hair, big eyes, big cheeks and looks like a kid._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:24 AM  
 _…_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:26 AM  
 _Crap did Xiumin-hyung tell u?_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:27 AM  
 _No, it was written on the back of the note._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:27 AM  
 _Jesus Xiumin-hyung >_>_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:28 AM  
 _In my defense Kyungsoo I also said you were really cute_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:30 AM  
 _:(_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:31 AM  
 _I know…that was also on the back. And you’re supposed to call me hyung. :/ I’m a year older than you._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:32 AM  
 _You’re my hyung? o_O_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:34 AM  
 _Is that a problem? >:/_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:34 AM  
 _No of course not! :)_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:34 AM  
 _it’s great!! ^^_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:37 AM  
 _…_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:37 AM  
 _No really i think its cute you’re my hyung even tho you’re so much shorter than i am_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:39 AM  
 _…_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 9:39 AM  
 _You know what, we must have the wrong ppl._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:40 AM  
 _D:_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:40 AM  
 _Wait hyung don’t go!_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:44 AM  
 _Hyung?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:51 AM  
 _Hyung! TT-TT_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 9:57 AM  
 _HYUNG_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:05 AM  
 _Come back hyung!_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:07 AM  
 _I’M GONNA CRY AND THEN MY WHOLE WEEKEND WILL BE RUINED CUZ U STOPPED TALKING TO ME!_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 10:10 AM  
 _It’s already Sunday, what whole weekend?_

  
 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:11 AM  
 _Hyung! :D_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 10:13 AM  
 _I’m trying to study._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:14 AM  
 _Ohh at the coffee shop?_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 10:15 AM  
 _…Are you stalking me?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:15 AM  
 _Lol NO_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:16 AM  
 _It’s just i saw u at the shop twice already so…_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 10:18 AM  
 _Again, we might have the wrong ppl. Your note was extremely vague._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:20 AM  
 _I said we met in the rain rite? That’s cuz we did_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:20 AM  
 _Sort of_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:21 AM  
 _I was late for practice and i stopped in front of the coffee shop becuz i forgot my umbrella that day._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:22 AM  
 _U were the guy on the other side of the window rite?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:22 AM  
 _U had the BIGGEST eyes. That’s how i recognized u ;)_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 10:24 AM  
 _Okay I guess you are the one I saw. :/_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:25  
 _Told u :D_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 14, 2012 10:27 AM  
 _…I’m going to study. Leave me alone for now._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 14, 2012 10:27 AM  
 _AWWW HYUNG D:_

.

.

Kyungsoo snickers when Jongin sends him five more texts in rapid succession, all of them with different variations of unhappy emoticons. 

Jongin continues to text him randomly for the rest of the day. So much that at one point, Baekhyun tries to steal his phone to find out what’s making him smile so much. 


	9. Chapter 9

[   
](http://yeo-ubi.tumblr.com/post/96859606714/theres-something-about-coffee-shops-that-makes) Baekhyun is the one that first brings the musical to Kyungsoo’s attention.

He’s being annoying about it at lunch, waving the notice he peeled off the side of a building in their faces as he whines/threatens them to come along. He’s not having much success because his voice has a particular nasal edge that gets more prominent when he wants something and tries to pull off aegyo to get it.

It’s a little funny though, since Baekhyun’s probably the only person besides his own mother who thinks his aegyo is effective.

Putting up a show of ignoring him, Kyungsoo busies himself with his curry as Chanyeol just bats away the paper because Baekhyun is the type of person to steal your food when you drop your guard and Chanyeol’s not about to lose his while distracted by dangling paper. 

“Just go by yourself!” Chanyeol retorts through a mouthful of food and Baekhyun shrieks as a few grains of rice fly in his general direction.

Kyungsoo doesn’t even need to look up to know that their table is receiving stares. It’s not just because they’re loud either; Chanyeol and Baekhyun have always been popular enough to garner looks from the student population, even with the general obscurity of college. 

Sometimes Kyungsoo thinks that the real reason he has managed to become friends with the two most well-known students on campus is because Chanyeol and Baekhyun subconsciously knew they needed someone a little calmer to balance them out, or else they would end up murdering one another from sheer annoyance as strong personalities might do when they spend too much time together. 

Whatever the reason, Kyungsoo’s just happy they keep him out of their frat wars, which is how Baekhyun and Chanyeol first gained notoriety as the most vicious pranksters on campus when they were both freshmen together. They were friends and frat brothers long before Kyungsoo met Chanyeol in his first year and then Baekhyun in his Chem section this year, and even he had heard gossip about them.

There are still quite a few frat brothers around campus that whisper  _Baekyeol_  amongst themselves like a prayer or a curse. Chanyeol thinks it’s hilarious.

“Eww, Chanyeol! Gross!" 

Baekhyun’s hands immediately go to his face to wipe off Chanyeol’s rice spittle like an affronted cat and the notice lands on Kyungsoo’s plate, only missing his curry because he reflexively blocks it with the hand holding his spoon. Glaring, Kyungsoo picks off the paper and holds it out by the corner between his index finger and thumb. 

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo prompts, shaking the notice a little so it dangles between them, front-side towards Kyungsoo. 

On the front of the paper there’s an artsy charcoal sketch that looks sort of like Johnny Depp’s face if you squint a little, and the red blaze of script above it proudly says “SWEENEY TODD, THE MUSICAL”. Beneath it is a short list of participants, and the label for the school’s dance team stands out as if it’s been bolded.

Baekhyun squawks when Kyungsoo hastily whips the paper back out of his hand, and curls his fist into his chest with whimpers of supposed paper cuts and cruel unfeeling Lit majors with thick eyebrows.  

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “What’s so interesting?” he says as he leans over to look at the paper. When he doesn’t see anything particularly eye-catching he pokes childishly at the cheek of the pseudo-Johnny Depp, making the paper crinkle and Kyungsoo click his tongue and pull it out of reach.  

"Overgrown man-child,” Kyungsoo mutters and Chanyeol grins. 

Baekhyun kneels on the bench seat so that he can bend across the table, hands braced on the tabletop.

“So you gonna come with me to the musical or what?” He peers at them eagerly through thick black frames he picked up at the local thrift store, which are supposed to make him look smartly sexy but actually make him look about six. 

Chanyeol scoffs. “Who’d want to see a gay singing show abou—mmph!” He reels back as Baekhyun slaps his palm over his mouth and shoves his face away. Baekhyun’s more interested in hearing from Kyungsoo, who’s still staring down at the notice in his hands with large eyes.

“Well?”

“Maybe,” Kyungsoo finally says as he raises his head. “I think, yeah, maybe.”

He sounds doubtful but Baekhyun still whoops, punching the air. Baekhyun doesn’t notice when Chanyeol snatches the snapback off his head and rights it over his own hair before he says, “What, really? Since when did you like musicals, Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo glances almost guiltily at the notice and shrugs. “Just now,” he mumbles, fingering the paper carefully. 

Underneath the dance team label, in much smaller script is a list of the members participating, and smack dab in the middle of the column of names, nestled amidst the other Kims, is one dancer Kyungsoo met just this past weekend. But his friends don’t need to know that. 

.

.

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 16, 2012 4:04 PM  
 _Hey, are you dancing in the Sweeney Todd musical?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 16, 2012 4:08 PM  
 _Why? Will you come see me? :)_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 16, 2012 4:09 PM  
 _Maybe. If I have time. :/ Finals are in a couple weeks._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 16, 2012 4:09 PM  
 _You should come!_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 16, 2012 4:09 PM  
 _Please come hyung?_

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 16, 2012 4:10 PM  
 _I’d like you to see me dance :]_

 **Do Kyungsoo**  
March 16, 2012 4:12 PM _  
Okay, I will then. :) You guys are performing till this weekend right? I’ll try to catch it then._

 **Kim Jongin**  
March 16, 2012 4:12 PM  
 _I can’t wait ;)_


	10. Chapter 10

Wednesday night, Kyungsoo’s walking back to his apartment from a late class. The part of the campus he’s walking through is woody, trees lining the walkway like grim sentinels, and in the inky darkness he can’t tell if the drifting shadows in the distance are other students or not.

Unsettled, Kyungsoo reaches for his phone.

He’s not scared exactly, but it would help to have someone to talk to, and the light of the screen shines like a beacon of hope. It’s instinctual then to look up the person he wants to call and press the dial button, and he doesn’t realize his mistake until the second ring.

Before Kyungsoo can consider hanging up, a throaty voice is answering. 

“Hello?”

“J-Jongin,” Kyungsoo sputters in surprise. The freshman has an unexpectedly deep voice, like molten chocolate over the bones, and even after he coughs to clear his throat it’s still pitched at a low alto. Kyungsoo can’t tell if he finds it comforting or distressing.

“Kyungsoo-hyung?” Jongin says in disbelief, and there’s a pause in which Kyungsoo imagines him checking the caller id. “Is that you?” His voice picks up enthusiasm.

“Ah, you’re the type that doesn’t check to see who’s calling,” Kyungsoo says knowingly and finds it in him to tease, “How arrogant of you.”

Now it’s Jongin’s turn to sputter, but he’s laughing too and then so is Kyungsoo, lungs sucking in crisp fresh air like he’s breathing in the raw flavor of life itself. Light with relief, his limbs loose and free, Kyungsoo’s steps turn whimsically idle, the steps of a poet or a writer, released from the brusque no-nonsense stride he had before.

It’s astonishing the way an addition of a fellow voice can transform the night and bring out it’s hidden inner romance, make it the night that couples to sing their intimacies into, the night for which insomniacs can whisper their hopes and dreams.

“Were you sleeping?”

A snort. “No, it’s only eight. I was catching up on some assignments I didn’t finish yet. This week has been  _hell_.” Jongin’s voice lifts into a whine that makes Kyungsoo smile.

“You talk exactly the way you text.“

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo exhales, “Just talking to myself.” He thinks about all the unspoken words that must easily take up as much space (if not more) as the spoken words do, quiet thoughts that people hide from scrutiny or save for themselves to be enjoyed later like a secret vice.

“Well you talk like you text too, hyung,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo wonders if he’s got a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth as well.

“Is that so?”

“Like  _that_.” Kyungsoo receives a roll of sweet chuckles. “I think you’ve been reading too many books, hyung. You’re starting to sound like them.”

“Oh. I guess I am pretty boring,” Kyungsoo muses. He’s always been a bit more serious for his age so it’s not surprising, but Jongin makes a sound like he’s been insulted.

“No, Kyungsoo-hyung! You’re not boring, you’re  _ **awesome**_. You’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. And who wants to talk like everyone else anyways?  _That’s_  boring.”

There’s an eerie fluttering feeling in his stomach, but instead of making him nauseous or dizzy or whatever people usually say, it feels like it’s lifting him up, like he swallowed a balloon whole. Helium in the brain, Kyungsoo thinks and can’t help laughing.

Jongin protests. “Really, I’m being serious!" 

“You haven’t even really met me yet,” Kyungsoo says, “We’ve texted a few times and that’s it.” He’s half-hearted though, waiting for Jongin to pull him along with his easy confidence, and Jongin doesn’t disappoint.

“Didn’t I tell you before, hyung? We met in the rain.” Gentle humor licks his words, though his tone is serious, and Kyungsoo’s steps stutter.

“I was late for dance practice, and forgot my umbrella. No one said it would rain that day,” an audible pout, “I ran under the awning of the coffee shop to get out of the rain for a moment, just to catch my breath, and when I looked up, you were there.” 

Jongin takes that breath now, quick and deep, and Kyungsoo presses the phone flat against his ear to catch its little tail end rattle. 

“You were looking at me with the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen, and I was so surprised that I said hello even though you couldn’t hear me, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t notice I said anything. Then you smiled at me, just a little,” Jongin’s voice softens, colors wistful. “I felt stupid all of a sudden, because I was standing there staring at you with my hair dripping and my t-shirt half-soaked see-through. And you were a stranger then, but you’re not now, you see? That was our first meeting.”

Kyungsoo is silent. There’s been something forming as Jongin spoke, rolling up into a bigger and bigger lump inside his chest and now he feels it might overwhelm him. It’s suffocating.

“Hyung?”

Kyungsoo’s breath punches out of him. “I want to see you,” he says. “I just, want to see you and I can’t believe we haven’t been able to meet in person yet even though we—I just, I wish—” Kyungsoo struggles, unsure how to articulate how he wants to have the boy in front of him so that he can touch his face and run his fingers through his hair to make sure he’s  ** _real_**.

Will he be warm? Yielding to the touch? Will he produce giggles if Kyungsoo pokes him in just the right place? Will his lips part as sweetly as they do with words?

“I know, I want to see you too. I can’t wait for you to come see me dance,” Jongin confesses, a little shyly. “I promise, hyung, we’ll meet each other properly then, face-to-face.” 

“Face-to-face,” Kyungsoo echoes, though he’s not sure why his version comes out a touch forlorn. 


	11. Chapter 11

The musical is better than Kyungsoo expected.

It’s true that this is the first one he’s gone to since he’s entered the university, but as the son of two music aficionados, he’s no stranger to the song and dance of it (in the literal sense). He was belting out songs in weekly karaoke nights with his family for as long as he could remember, and was dressed up in penguin suits for musicals and orchestras as soon as he was old enough to sit still in public without making a scene.

So he didn’t expect much from a school production, but the singers are engaging and the storyline easy to follow, and during the climaxes Kyungsoo, Chanyeol and Baekhyun exchange grins that glow with reflected stage light. 

Jongin has only two minor speaking roles, in which he probably says about ten words at maximum, and he’s mostly in the background tapping out the beat like dancing furniture. Even so, every time he appears it seems like the stage lights are moving around to highlight him.

He has a magnetism that attracts the eye, in the fluid snake-snap of his body movements and the molten punch of his gaze that seems to pin you to your seat in the audience.

At these moments, even though he knows the stage glare all but makes him a dark blur in the congealed mass of the audience, Kyungsoo stares back hopefully, heart leaping up to his throat every time it seems like Jongin’s eyes touches his.

After the performance ends, Kyungsoo drags Chanyeol and Baekhyun out with him so he doesn’t miss Jongin by accident, and waits by the wall next to the entrance as the performers come spilling out to applause and flowers. None of them is Jongin, but there’s still stragglers emerging and Kyungsoo waits in anxious silence.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol are congratulating the performers, Chanyeol so full of puppy enthusiasm that the crowd of them instinctively moves towards him like flowers facing the sun. It’s obvious that this won’t be the last musical he goes to, despite all the earlier criticisms, and as if reading Kyungsoo’s thoughts, Baekhyun sends him a chagrined look from where he’s trying to interpret Chanyeol’s excited gibberish into comprehensible speech for the singers.

 _ **But where is Jongin?**_  

Minutes pass slowly, agonizingly, and then no one else is leaving the doors. Kyungsoo looks through the entrance and sees the theater room deserted except for a handful of students, but no Jongin. In disbelief he goes back in for a quick rotation and comes back out feeling like he’s aged a decade.

“Woah,” Baekhyun says upon seeing his face, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Kyungsoo shakes his head as he lowers his eyes, because if it’s true that the eyes are windows to the soul then he doesn’t want to know what his are showing right now. All he wants to do is go home, curl up in his bed and sleep forever.

A dark spot freckles the ground, then another and another, until they’re coming down by the handful.

“Great, did anyone bring an umbrella?” Chanyeol asks as he tries to block his head with his arms. The crowd of people is dispersing quickly and a few black umbrella tops blossom among them.

“Oh no!” Baekhyun wails, “Shit, they said the rain wouldn’t start until the weekend!” He tries to duck under Chanyeol and gives up when it’s obvious the other boy’s too lanky to provide any protection from the rain.

“Isn’t Friday the start of the weekend?”

“But it’s not officially the weekend yet!”

Only Kyungsoo’s silent, watching the rain stain his shoes black.

“Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon walks up with Luhan, looking cozy under their shared umbrella.

Kyungsoo blinks and waves a wet hand. “Hello, Junmyeon-hyung. Hi, Luhan.” He manages a smile. 

“Kyungsoo!” Luhan greets cheerfully. “You two never told me you knew each other!” He aims the second part at Junmyeon, who smiles sheepishly and explains that they have a few shared classes. Apparently he and Luhan are dating, if the linked arms and proximity is anything to speak of. 

“Did you watch the musical too?” Kyungsoo asks as Chanyeol and Baekhyun watch with mild interest. They’re all dripping now, but no one seems to mind except Junmyeon who tilts the umbrella a little towards Kyungsoo even though it exposes his left side. 

“Yep! One of Junmyeon’s underclassmen was in it. We just saw him and his friend off out the back of the theater,” Luhan says and then adds in a confidential tone, “It’s the guy that has a crush on Zitao.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Kyungsoo says, but it sounds flat even to his ears, and Junmyeon shoots him a worried look. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t care anymore. He’s tired. 

After they leave and drop off Baekhyun at his apartment, Kyungsoo peels off his wet clothes, towels his hair moderately dry and crawls into bed. He pushes his face into the pillow like he might cry, but no tears come out. 

It’s in sleep that he disappears, finally, blissfully. Thoughtless. 

.

.

The next day is grey and rainy again. Kyungsoo turns off his phone and holes himself up in his room.

Sensing his mood, Chanyeol leaves him be, though he leaves leftovers on the table in plain sight like he’s afraid Kyungsoo will be too depressed to be able to scavenge for food himself.

When he turns on his phone Sunday morning, Kyungsoo finds two missed calls from Jongin, and with a small smile, he calls him back. Jongin doesn’t answer so Kyungsoo tries again later that afternoon, assuming Jongin is sleeping in. 

It’s after the fourth call that Kyungsoo eventually realizes Jongin is ignoring him. 


	12. Chapter 12

Saturday night. 

It’s raining when they emerge from the doors but there are still audience members waiting around to congratulate them, huddled under their black umbrellas. He gets admiring grins, pats on the back, even a bouquet of tulips from a  girl that goes to all of his shows no matter what role he plays, but nothing from the person he wanted to see most.

Jongin bounces on the balls of his feet with anxious energy, laughs a little too hard, makes his rounds thanking the admirers with practiced smiles. 

The slow-forming dread that has nestled in his stomach reaches up to his throat and solidifies as it becomes apparent that Kyungsoo didn’t come. The smile fades. Someone from the school newspaper snaps off a string of shots and he can’t even manage the energy to care. 

It’s still raining when Sehun starts complaining and threatens to ditch Jongin to go drinking with the rest of the crew to celebrate the finale. He wants to get in his little chunk of fun before finals descend and dominate his free time and Jongin’s sudden mopiness isn’t going to stop him.

Jongin wavers, conflicted. His dance team is waiting on him expectantly.

One last glance around and a double check in the theater seats produces no red-haired coffee shop boys.

“Fine,” Jongin says, “Let’s go.”

He thinks about texting while they’re ordering drinks using some older hyung’s id card and half the table’s deserted for the dance floor, but at the bottom of his first beer he screws up the courage to call Kyungsoo. Twice even.

No answer, which is enough of an answer in itself. 

Jongin doesn’t call again.


	13. Chapter 13

[   
](http://yeo-ubi.tumblr.com/post/96859606714/theres-something-about-coffee-shops-that-makes) Yixing is openly surprised to see Kyungsoo step through the doors of the coffee shop.

“Kyungsoo! I thought you were too busy with finals to come by anymore,” the barista says, though he dimples pleasantly at him.

In contrast, Zitao’s greeting is a small, sullen, “Hi,” from where he’s standing stiffly next to the espresso grinder. 

“The library’s getting kind of boring I guess,” Kyungsoo says with a shrug, “I think I’ve gotten too used to studying with some noise in the background.”

It’s not exactly a lie because the library does feel too quiet now to concentrate properly. What Kyungsoo doesn’t mention is that he can’t concentrate on his studying with or without the library, because then he would have to explain why he keeps his phone on him at all times, and why he checks it constantly even though the ringtone for texts is set at its maximum volume.

It has been four days and Jongin still hasn’t called him back or sent him a message. His absence is a constant stifling weight, sitting on Kyungsoo’s chest like his cousin’s fat cat does to guests when they sleep over. He takes deep breaths to clear the feeling but it stubbornly persists, and a small distant part of him is genuinely terrified that he’ll never be relieved of it, that he’ll have to live like this forever, halfway to asphyxiation.

To his surprise, Zitao almost looks as bad as Kyungsoo feels, face pinched as he retrieves Kyungsoo’s coffee without his usual barrage of heavily-accented chatter.

“Are you okay, Tao?” Kyungsoo asks as he hands the money over to Yixing, who looks abashed when Kyungsoo drops the change into the tip jar without looking at it. 

“I’m fine,” declares Zitao, but Yixing catches Kyungsoo’s eye and motions over at the sofas, and glancing back Kyungsoo realizes the couple he saw sitting there when he arrived is none other than Luhan and a solemn-faced boy with hair that’s been bleached almost completely colorless.

It’s almost as pale as his skin, and with his white t-shirt, if one squints, he looks sort of like a piece of paper held up against the dark backdrop of the shop.

He and Luhan are sitting side by side on the sofa angled towards the baristas’ station, their heads bent towards one another in low, furtive discussion.

“Tao’s admirer, in the flesh,” Yixing clarifies for him. Zitao huffs loudly. “I think Luhan’s giving him some kind of pep talk to finally ask Tao out because he can’t stand the awkwardness of the morning shifts anymore.” 

Kyungsoo eyes Zitao in confusion. “That’s a good thing right?”

Zitao looks supremely conflicted, and his face contorts like he wants to say two different things at the same time. Before he can speak though Yixing says something to him in quiet Mandarin and Tao immediately bristles.

“You don’t know that!” Zitao says hotly, “He would never say anything like that at all! I’m going to keep waiting for him because it’s the  _ **right**_  thing to do!” He throws his coffee-stained rag down between them like a duel glove and seethes. 

Yixing looks pained. “Taozi, I just meant that maybe it’s time you stopped basing your decisions on if―" But before he can finish, Zitao lashes out at him in barbed Mandarin and stomps off the back room before anyone can stop him. 

Kyungsoo watches him go with wide eyes. “What was that about?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

“It’s complicated,” Yixing sighs and fiddles anxiously with the purple headphones around his neck. Kyungsoo is about to tell him that he doesn’t need to explain if it’s uncomfortable when Luhan walks over, Zitao’s admirer towering over him from behind like a rising cloud. 

“Is he having another tantrum over Kris again?” Luhan says in exasperation. He folds his arms, mouth pursed. “Doesn’t he know Kris got a girlfriend earlier this year?”

“SHHHH, don’t mention that!” Yixing yelps and slaps a hand over Luhan’s mouth making the other barista flail. Beside him, the tall pale boy has to step back to avoid being hit in the face. 

“Kris…that’s Zitao’s ex right?” the pale boy asks, the downturn to his lips decidedly glum.

“Not exactly,” Yixing hedges, before Luhan throws off his hand and turns to him to explain. “Tao wishes, but they never dated so you don’t have to worry about him,” Luhan says firmly as he pats the boy on the arm in a comforting manner. “If you like Zitao just ask him out already. He’s a brat but he won’t bite. Be brave, Sehunnie.”

Kyungsoo perks up at the name. “Sehun? Your name is Sehun?” Kyungsoo questions, because Jongin has a childhood best friend of the same name. And it’s at that precise moment that Kyungsoo remembers Luhan and Junmyeon went to go see Sehun at the musical, and he nearly shrieks as the dots connect.

“You danced at the musical!” Kyungsoo’s voice goes a pitch higher in his excitement. “You’re Jongin’s Sehun! Jongin’s roommate!” He’s speaking so quickly that the words run together, and Sehun glances at Yixing and Luhan like he expects their aid if Kyungsoo turns out to be dangerous.

“…Yes,” Sehun says warily. 

Kyungsoo hurriedly introduces himself. “My name is Do Kyungsoo. I just, I met Jongin a little while ago. Kind of,” Kyungsoo corrects himself with a grimace. “It’s a long story, but we texted a bit.”

“Alright,“ says Sehun, still dubious, "I’ll tell him you said hi?”

“I don’t think he’ll want it,” Kyungsoo awkwardly admits, because at this point what does he have to lose? “He’s not really talking to me.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like…wait,” Sehun deliberately pauses as he looks Kyungsoo up and down in slow revelation. “You’re the coffee shop boy?”

"Coffee shop boy?” Yixing murmurs and Luhan hushes him. 

Kyungsoo frowns. “He calls me that?”

“You  _ **are**_  the coffee shop boy,” Sehun says, and he looks astonished for all of one second before he pulls a 180 and his face goes dark, lips flattening in a thin mean line. “What the hell did you do to him?” 

Taken aback by the sudden hostility, Kyungsoo stutters, “W-what are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.” 

“Well you must have done something,” Sehun says sharply, “He hardly ever leaves his room anymore and he’s been depressed for days. Tell me what the hell you did so I can fix it,  _ **now**_.” The acidity of his tone makes Luhan gasp softly because he’s never seen his younger friend get this emotional before.

Cornered under the force of Sehun’s anger Kyungsoo instinctively snaps back, “I didn’t  ** _do_**  anything. He just stopped talking to me all of a sudden and I have no idea why. Or why he’s ignoring me now. I even went to his musical on Friday night like I promised, and I waited for him after the show, in the _rain_.“

The painful irony of that statement isn’t lost on him, and he allows himself a brief humorless smile. The rest stare, though Sehun starts to look thoughtful. 

"But he didn’t show up, and then all of a sudden he wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I thought he might just be busy or….” Kyungsoo trails off, not wanting to confess that what he actually suspected was that Jongin had gotten bored of him. Yixing has to attend to a customer at the register and they watch him go in silence. 

Sehun speaks first. “It was Saturday,” he says in a contemplative tone, and Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him.

“I think I would know the day―" 

Sehun ignores him. "On Saturday, after our last performance, Jongin kept waiting for someone but they never showed, and he got crazy drunk afterwards. We had to carry him back to the dorm, which was a pain because we almost got caught by the RA.” Sehun frowns at the memory before facing Kyungsoo. “I assumed the person he was waiting for was who he was texting all week. The coffee shop boy he didn’t want me to meet because I might ‘steal him away with my cold city boy looks’.  ** _Y_ _ou_** , basically,” Sehun tells Kyungsoo, who blanches. 

“I thought the final show was on Friday,” Kyungsoo says hollowly, and he doesn’t know what his expression looks like but Luhan makes a soft noise through the hand over his mouth like he can’t help himself. 

“No, the last one was finished on Saturday,” Sehun replies and gives Kyungsoo an oddly sympathetic look. “We celebrated and everything.”

Kyungsoo’s heart is beating a slow drumbeat in his ears. The missing slot of the puzzle slips into place and something in Kyungsoo screams from the relief of it finally being completed.

He closes his eyes. “My friend thought, told me that the last performance was Friday night. I promised Jongin I would see him at his last performance.”

A pause, before Kyungsoo concludes, “You’re right, Sehun, this is my fault.” 


	14. Chapter 14

[   
](http://yeo-ubi.tumblr.com/post/96859606714/theres-something-about-coffee-shops-that-makes) Thankfully, it’s not raining when practice finishes, though the air feels wet enough to warn people to stay indoors. He’s walking back to the dorms when he hears someone call out to him from behind.

“Hey wait! Jongin!”

Jongin is automatically expecting it to be Sehun and it’s only when he looks back that he realizes the voice is richer, more full-bodied where Sehun’s thins. His expectant look dissolves. The figure catches up to him, panting, and bends over to brace his hands on his knees to recover his breath.

Jongin wavers, stunned.

“Kyungsoo-hyung?” Jongin croaks as he turns around fully, letting the hood of his army jacket fall back. But it’s not really a question because he knows those eyes. “What are you…?”

Jongin can’t stop looking at him. It’s unreal having Kyungsoo close enough to touch.

Up close, Kyungsoo looks boyishly soft, all over, as if he’s begging someone who snatch him up and cuddle him to death. Black is starting to grow out the roots of his red haircut and he’s got slight indents at the top of the bridge of his nose from where he’s recently fallen asleep in reading glasses.

Up close, Kyungsoo’s large kissable lips are chapped, though it doesn’t seem to detract from their appeal. Jongin has to tear his eyes away from them. 

Caught up in observing the other boy, Jongin hadn’t noticed that Kyungsoo has similarly been inspecting him back, and he wonders if he’s imagining the wistfulness on Kyungsoo’s face as he straightens up out of his hunch.

There’s an awkward moment where they both have nothing and everything to say; they open their mouths at the same time and close them. Silence ensues.

Finally, Kyungsoo blurts, “Sehun told me you had practice until five!”

Jongin blinks. “Okay,” he replies, uncertain of what else to say.  

“But it’s only three now,” Kyungsoo blabbers nervously, “I don’t understand why people keep telling me the wrong things. It’s like they want me to fail.” Then he glares a little at Jongin like he blames the dancer, making Jongin’s lips twitch.

“Sehun wasn’t lying. I have practice till five, usually,” the freshman says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “But it’s almost finals week so we end a couple hours earlier.”

Kyungsoo nods dumbly. “Oh.”

Jongin asks suddenly, “You saw Sehun?”

“Yeah. At the coffee shop.”

“So that’s where he went.” Jongin clicks his tongue judgmentally. “Our dance instructor’s going to tear him apart for skipping practice,” he says, though he doesn’t look too bothered.

“I don’t think it’s his fault. Luhan got to him,” Kyungsoo tells him and then falters as he realizes Jongin might not know the barista. ”If you’ve ever met Luhan he’s pretty hard to shrug off,” he explains.

“Luhan…the senior that works with Sehun’s crush,” Jongin ponders aloud. He glances down at his shoes before giving Kyungsoo an unreadable look. “I met him before, at the show on Saturday.”

And just like that, the tension becomes thick enough to cut with a knife. 

“Right,” Kyungsoo chokes and licks his lips. Jongin’s eyes have turned a little flat, making it difficult for Kyungsoo to get the words out. “Right, about that, I didn’t mean to―I  ** _did_**  go to the show, but on Friday night.”

Jongin’s eyebrows shoot up, but before he can say anything Kyungsoo’s continuing, the words pouring out of him like water from a broken dam.

“My friend thought the last one was on Friday so I went to the Friday night show and I waited for you, and I’m  ** _sorry_**. Sehun told me that you were waiting for me after the show on Saturday and I had no idea. I’m sorry, Jongin. I didn’t mean to miss it, I swear―”

He cuts himself off and bites his lip, looks up at Jongin cautiously. “Say something?”

Jongin didn’t realize his mouth was open and he snaps it shut now and swallows. There’s a lot of different things he wants to say but the first one that pops out is, “So you didn’t ditch me on purpose?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head quickly. “No, I didn’t,” he swears. 

“I thought that you might have…gotten sick of me,” Jongin confesses, shifting his feet uneasily. Kyungsoo is a little appalled because that’s what _ **he**_  thought.

“You were the one that was ignoring all my calls and texts,” Kyungsoo points out.

“You did it first!” protests Jongin. “I texted you Saturday morning  ** _and_**  called you twice that night and you never answered.”

Kyungsoo winces, gives Jongin sort of an abashed look. “Sorry about that. I was feeling down so I turned off my phone for the day.”

“Ah,” says Jongin and visibly deflates. He looks at Kyungsoo then as if to say, now what?

“You’re not mad?” Kyungsoo asks.

At his tone, Jongin’s eyes gentle. “Should I be? It sounds like we just missed each other because of stupid reasons. I’m sorry too, about everything,” he apologizes and smiles so his eyes curve charmingly.

Relieved, Kyungsoo smiles back.

“I did miss you the past few days. I didn’t realize how much I’ve gotten used to your morning texts, or when you’d call me in the middle of class and get me in trouble,” Kyungsoo says teasingly.

“I missed you too, hyung.” Then Jongin steps forward, looking hesitant, and Kyungsoo’s breath catches as he carefully leans down and engulfs him in a hug. 

“Oh,” goes Kyungsoo softly. Jongin is warm and very solid and his shirt smells like cheap detergent. After a moment of floundering uselessly, his arms raise to hug Jongin back, and Kyungsoo lets himself nose against the firmness of his shoulder. 

“I’ve wanted to do this forever,” Jongin sighs into his ear, and something in Kyungsoo’s chest feels like it’s drowning.

His heart, Kyungsoo thinks. His heart is overflowing.

Kyungsoo’s not too sure who starts it, but when they finally pull apart Jongin’s lips are on his and Kyungsoo has to hold on to Jongin’s arms to keep himself steady because his knees are rebelling. Which is annoying since the rest of his body is striving upwards. 

They meet once, twice, thrice. 

Kyungsoo feels dazed when they come up for air, but to his satisfaction he’s not the only one affected. Jongin’s tan skin is lightly flushed and Kyungsoo can’t resist.

Kyungsoo grins and pokes his collarbone where the heat has spread down to. 

“Cute,” Kyungsoo remarks. 

Jongin looks mortified. “Hyung!”

“So,” Kyungsoo looks up at Jongin through his lashes, and when the dance major gulps he smiles broadly enough for his cheeks to bunch up in that embarrassing way they do, “You want to get a cup of coffee?" 

His cheekiness makes Jongin smirk. “Hyung, I don’t drink coffee,” he says, but shyly he reaches down to grab Kyungsoo’s hand. “But I’ll go with you anyways.” 

Kyungsoo laces their fingers. “Deal.” 


	15. Chapter 15

[   
](http://yeo-ubi.tumblr.com/post/96859606714/theres-something-about-coffee-shops-that-makes) It’s still grey outside, but the sun valiantly shines through the clouds every now and then like it’s trying to break free of them. It’s on this day that Jongin jumps into the coffee shop looking harried.

“Hyung! Hyung, where are you? Have you seen Kyungsoo-hyung??”

“He just left!” Jongdae, the shop’s newbie, yells at him from the register. “Now order something or get out, it’s busy enough without you here!”

Immediately, Yixing swats him over the butt with one of the rags, making Jongdae shoot him a vicious scowl.

Undeterred, Yixing swats him again and tells him pleasantly, “Don’t be rude to the customers.”

“What customer?” Jongdae mutters, “He never drinks any coffee anyways.”

Another swat shuts him up. The customer at the front of the line giggles behind her hand, making Jongdae go pink under his oversized glasses.

Jongin’s about to run out the door in search of his missing hyung when Sehun calls lazily from the sofa area, “He went left! Towards the school.”

He’s sitting next to a sedate looking Zitao, sharing what looks like two coffee cups full of nothing but whipped cream and sprinkles. Jongin grins at him.

“Thanks, Sehun! Have fun on your date!” Jongin says before he races out the door, and from behind him he hears Zitao’s petulant cry of, “It’s not a date!” Knowing Sehun’s persistence though Zitao will be conceding to a lot “non-dates” until he finally gives in.

To his enormous relief, Jongin spots the familiar back of the redhead down the block at the next light, waiting for the crosswalk signal. Jongin uses his long legs to his advantage. 

“Hyung!” Jongin shouts and Kyungsoo turns, eyes going wide when he sees the freshman sprinting towards him.

“This feels oddly familiar,” Kyungsoo quips when Jongin skids to a stop in front of him. Though to his ire Jongin’s not breathing nearly as hard as Kyungsoo would be.

“Hi.” Jongin smiles and lands a quick kiss on Kyungsoo’s heart-shaped mouth. “Sorry I’m late. I fell asleep while I was waiting for your final to end.” His hair accordingly resembles a bird’s nest. It’s really not fair that he still looks so attractive. 

Kyungsoo blushes lightly and adjusts the glasses on his face. He’s having trouble getting used to the PDA that Jongin is so easy with. Being a dancer, Jongin is comfortable with his body and touchy in a way most people aren’t, and it shows when he bearhugs Kyungsoo in public or grabs his hand whenever they aren’t touching.

Like now, as they cross the street together, Jongin hand lingers over his back like Kyungsoo might fall and get run over without his attention. Kyungsoo suffers it with grace.

“I like the glasses on you,” Jongin says with a side glance at him. “You should wear them more often.”

Kyungsoo makes a face. “Baekhyun told me they make me look like a little old professor.”

Jongin swiftly looks affronted. “Screw Baekhyun! You look great with glasses, hyung.”

Then he smiles mischievously. “Actually, I think you look more like a sexy professor.”

Kyungsoo slaps at his arm, but Jongin doesn’t stop there.

“Teach me, Kyungsoo-hyung? Or should I call you  ** _Professor Do_**?”

As Jongin starts cackling, Kyungsoo stiffly speed-walks away with his face blazing.

“Wait, hyung! Come back!” Jongin gasps through his laughter.

“I don’t know you! Go away!” Kyungsoo retorts, but he grudgingly lets Jongin catch up to him and slip his arm around his shoulders in a tight side hug. He closes his eyes as lips press to his forehead.

“Sorry, I’ll stop. Let’s go back and eat pizza now?” Jongin’s eyes curve at him, and Kyungsoo’s traitorous heart misses a beat.

“Fine,” Kyungsoo says grouchily.

When they walk though, he’s the one to grab Jongin’s cool hand and squeeze it, and the long knobby fingers around his squeeze back immediately.

Finally, Kyunsoo thinks to himself in contentment. A reply.


End file.
